House arrest.
That was the punishment decided for me. Given the circumstances, I suppose I should be grateful. The council claimed they didn't want to "traumatize me any more than I already was." Right. Because I'm sure my well-being was their top priority.
I was bound and blindfolded for the journey, but when they finally removed the cloth from my eyes, I found myself standing in a dimly lit room. It was spacious but cold, furnished with only the bare essentials—a bed, a bookshelf, and a small bathroom attached to the side.
The door behind me locked with a heavy thunk as the guards left.
I exhaled and walked toward the bed, letting my body fall onto the stiff mattress. My mind churned through everything that had happened. I was supposed to be rotting in prison, yet here I was, confined in a mansion in some random village instead. Political pressure? My family pulling strings behind the scenes? Either way, being rich certainly had its perks.
But now what?
I stared at the ceiling, the weight of reality settling over me.
First things first—I needed to take stock of my situation.
I remember the story up until Arthur's supposed death. He survives, of course, and later resurfaces in the Relic Tombs. That much, I know. But after that? The war arc? I barely skimmed through it, mostly because I lost interest when Arthur was struggling against everyone.
And if he was weak, then what the hell am I supposed to do? I'm the villain. The one he's supposed to crush.
The moment Arthur returns from the Asuras' training, I'll be the first one on his hit list.
I sighed. Maybe I was overthinking it. Maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't bother with me.
…Yeah, no. Wishful thinking.
I pushed myself upright, rubbing my temples. "Alright. Let's focus."
The first step to survival was getting stronger. Much stronger.
I had some advantages. Lucas' magic affinity and swordsmanship skills were mine to inherit, and back on Earth, I was proficient in nearly every close-combat weapon. That training had to count for something. But none of it would matter if I didn't fix my mana core first.
Shatter it. Reform it. Strengthen it.
That was the plan.
I sat cross-legged on the floor, assuming a meditative pose—one I had learned years ago when I tried to seduce a superior officer who was obsessed with yoga. (Yes, I committed to the bit. And yes, it worked.)
Closing my eyes, I focused inward, searching for the core within me.
Nothing.
I tried again. And again.
Still nothing.
Five hours passed.
My head was pounding. Sweat clung to my skin, my clothes damp with exhaustion. But finally—finally—I caught a glimpse of it. My mana core.
A fragile, cracked thing. It pulsed weakly, its fractures deepening with every passing second. It was already on the verge of collapse.
Good.
Now, I just needed to break it completely.
I wiped the sweat from my forehead and took a shaky breath. This next step? It was going to hurt. A lot.
I tried standing, only for my legs to buckle beneath me.
Great.
Guess I overdid it already.
I lay back on the floor, catching my breath. This was only the beginning, and I had a long month ahead of me. But if I played my cards right, if I could endure this, then maybe—just maybe—I wouldn't be an easy target when the storm finally came.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
...
Powerstonessss!!!
Patreon link:-
patreon.com/RoyanTheGreat
Discord link:-
https://discord.gg/vgDzJEjH
Be sure to comment it Motivates me most of the time.